


universal bones

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Pining, Touch-Starved, also general affection & kindness starved!killua, don't worry tho he gets so much love in this fic!!!!!, hxhbb, killua is peak gay disaster in this fic get ready, standard zoldyck family dysfunction, touch starved!killua
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: Killua has made his peace with being miserable. As a god of death, what time he doesn’t spend surrounded by grief and loss and tragedy is spent smothered beneath the oppressive cruelty of his family. His existence is bleak and joyless and wholly without meaning, and he’s long since lost the will to fight the inevitable.Until he meets Gon, a nature god who’s perplexing in every possible way. Until he meets Gon, who shows Killua that his power isn’t a curse, who brings him garlands of dried flowers and small pieces of chocolate, who awakens in Killua a warmth of which he’d thought himself completely incapable.Until he meets Gon, and something begins to change.Written for the 2020 HxH Big Bang!
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 299
Kudos: 716
Collections: Hxhbb, The Best of The Best





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!!!! before we get into it, a bit of business:
> 
> 1\. this fic is for the hxh big bang, which won't officially start posting until july. however, we're allowed to post early & i figured rn things are kind of a nightmare, so i wanted to give y'all (and myself, quite honestly) something to enjoy in a dark time.
> 
> 2\. on that note, the bang was an absolute joy to participate in!!!! mods, participants, everyone was so lovely!!!! many thanks to everyone who put in the hard work to make this such a fantastic event!!
> 
> 3\. this fic is 100% complete & updates tuesdays!!!!! (barring any massive unforeseen circumstances)
> 
> 4\. content warnings are in the tags, but i'll also give the heads up on each ch!! (this one has some vvvv vaguely implied abuse)
> 
> 5\. title is from william faulkner's nobel prize acceptance speech bc you can take the girl out of the english major, but you can't take the english major out of the girl
> 
> okay, that is all i can think of for rn, so pls enjoy!!!!!!!

Changing the leaves in autumn is one of the very few responsibilities of being a god of death that Killua actually enjoys. In general, he spends his days surrounded by loss and grief and tragedy, by weeping mothers and frightened children. Yes, he helps souls through to the afterlife as mercifully as he can manage, but even the quickest, most painless deaths are deaths all the same. 

But for a few short weeks each year, Killua gets to make something beautiful. For a few weeks, he gets to overhear the passersby say to one another that the leaves look especially lovely today. It’s still a death, of course; it’s not that he’s forgotten that. But this is the only time of year when the killing feels just a bit more bearable.

It only takes a brush of Killua’s hand down the side of the trunk to begin the steady cycle, so he gets to take long, solitary strolls through the woods running his hands along the rough, rich bark. It’s the closest thing he knows to contentment, the feeling of the trees beneath his palms and the grass under his feet and the breeze just beginning to hint at a chill.

So this is where Killua finds himself today, deep in the forest, breathing in the scent of dark, damp earth in the golden sunlight of late afternoon. And it’s here, in a part of the woods so secluded that the footpath has all but vanished, surrounded by a thick grove of trees, that Killua, much to his surprise, happens across a young man.

The man looks to be Killua’s age, but he’s taller and broader through the shoulders. While Killua is so pale he borders on sickly, this young man has golden, sun-kissed skin and thick black hair. He’s dressed plainly--a simple white shirt tucked into loose-flowing, dark pants--but Killua can tell he doesn’t require flashy, ostentatious clothes to draw attention, not when he carries in him such pure, vital energy that Killua can’t manage to look away. As he strolls among the trees, eyes bright and bare toes digging into the dirt, he looks like life itself.

Killua means to hide himself--he’s never exactly been keen on talking with strangers, and strangers even less keen on talking with him. But he’s so mesmerized by this man, by the captivating warmth Killua can feel emanating from his body, that by the time he realizes he needs to duck behind the thick tree to his left, it’s too late.

The man spots Killua and he smiles. And if he were golden and glowing before, he’s now so bright it’s difficult to keep looking directly at him. Killua freezes, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and staring determinedly at the ground.

“Hi!” the man says, heading straight towards Killua. It’s very odd. Killua knows the dark decay of death hangs off of him wherever he goes, like a stench he can’t ever seem to wash away. Even mortals can sense it. Nearly everyone outside his own family avoids approaching him, averting their eyes and hurrying past as quickly as they can manage. But this man walks directly towards him with a smile, undeterred.

“What brings you this far into the forest?” the man asks. Killua raises his gaze to look at him, and regrets it instantly. Up close, the vitality and purity radiating off of him are almost too much to bear, like shining a flashlight right at someone who’s spent years in the dark.

“Um. Trees.”

Killua’s face grows hot. It’s been so long since he’s spoken with anyone besides his family, but surely he can do better than “trees.”

“The leaves,” he continues. “I’m beginning to turn them. For the changing seasons.”

“Oh, that’s amazing!” the man exclaims.

Is it, though? It’s far from the most impressive feat a god can perform. But the man sounds entirely genuine.

“I’m Gon,” he continues, holding his hand out to Killua.

“Killua.” Surprisingly, Gon doesn’t flinch when he takes Killua’s frigid hand in his own.

“It must be a lot of fun, getting to be the one to change the leaves.”

“Um. Yes. It’s my favorite part of the year.”

“I’ve always been partial to spring, but autumn is beautiful too. The mornings especially, right as the sun comes up, when it’s all brisk and foggy .”

Killua hesitates, unsure of how to respond; he’s quite unpracticed in the art of making friendly conversation. How should he reply? Should he ask Gon what brings him into the forest, or is that too invasive? Should he agree with him on the beauty of autumn mornings? What could he possibly say that will keep Gon from immediately turning and walking away? But the panic only lasts a moment before the silence is broken by the snapping of a twig.

Killua turns towards the sound. A wide-eyed deer, tall and elegant, is walking straight towards the two of them, ears turned forward in interest. She doesn’t hesitate for even a moment, as Killua would expect, but approaches Gon as if he were an old, cherished friend. Gon smiles and holds up his hand, and the deer places its face right into his palm. 

Killua can’t quite explain what happens as Gon strokes the deer. All at once, she somehow becomes more alive. It’s subtle but undeniable--her coat is suddenly shinier and her eyes are brighter and she stands just a bit taller. All from a simple touch. Killua watches, mesmerized.

“Do you want to pet her?” Gon asks, running a hand down her neck.

Killua freezes. Gon doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what Killua really is. That he walks the earth as death itself. He doesn’t know that Killua can’t touch living things, not without suffering the consequences. He must think Killua as pure and untainted as himself. It hits like a punch to the gut. The moment Gon discovers Killua’s true nature, his goodwill will vanish, leaving only a pitying, fearful discomfort. Killua knows it.

“No, that’s okay,” Killua replies.

“You should try it,” Gon says. “I’m a nature god, so she’s perfectly docile around me. And she’s really soft.”

Killua doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to cry.

“I should really get going,” he says. “I have some more work to do.”

Without waiting for a response, Killua abruptly turns around and walks away.

As Killua continues his walk through the forest, the thought of Gon lingers in his mind. His open, honest face. The way he approached Killua without the slightest hesitation. How he spoke to Killua like he would anyone else. The doe, immediately drawn to him the way Killua imagines everything must be. Killua can’t quite describe the warm, ever-expanding feeling in his chest as he recalls Gon’s gentleness, as he relives how thoroughly he wasn’t repulsed by Killua, but it’s intoxicating all the same.

Of course it’s disappointing that any friendship between them was doomed from the start. Of course Killua can’t help but yearn for more--more warmth, more goodwill, more precious time. But at least he has the untainted memory of their conversation. He left before Gon knew the truth about him, before Gon’s opinion of him inevitably changed, and that was for the best. It’s enough to keep him going for months, someone smiling at him and shaking his hand and speaking to him kindly. If nothing else, he has that.

Even returning to the Underworld that evening, to the perpetually dark sky and imposing castle and cold iron gates, doesn’t bring with it the misery Killua expects. When his brother, Illumi, passes him in the hall, Killua doesn’t flinch as dramatically as usual. Even their daily meal together, the one Killua’s commanded to attend, with the hard, high-backed chairs and grating scraping of silverware against the dishes and unbearable tension, doesn’t leave Killua shaking quite as badly as he expects. That kindness he experienced today, however brief, however fleeting, casts a bright, golden warmth on his every interaction, makes the whole world shimmer and gleam.

And when he sleeps, Killua is spared the usual nightmares. He doesn’t wake haunted by memories of pain and fear, by the echoes of screams and the ache of old wounds. His night, for the first time he can remember, is dreamless and peacefully and wholly relaxed.

* * *

Killua doesn’t mean to find Gon again. Of course he doesn’t. He wants nothing more than to hold onto that bright, cherished memory of their meeting; he wouldn’t dare dream of encountering Gon again and risk spoiling what he has now. If Killua knows nothing else in this world, he knows when to quit. He wouldn’t push his luck so recklessly.

He merely happens to find himself in the same part of the forest as he had a few days ago. His eyes merely happen to scan the trees desperately. And he merely happens to find Gon, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, a garland of marigolds in his hair, feeding several rabbits out of his hand.

Killua should turn around and run and never look back. Gon will discover his true nature and hate him for it; it’s inevitable. If he takes even one more step, he’s throwing away the one scrap of kindness he’s had in years. One more step and he’s agreeing to destroy one of the precious few happy memories he has.

But compelled by some unseen force, Killua steps forward. 

Gon looks up at the sound and he smiles. Wide and delighted and right at Killua. Killua can’t remember the last time anyone looked happy to see him.

“Killua!” he shouts, throwing his arms into the air. “I found you!”

“I actually think I was the one who found you, if we want to be precise about it.”

Gon laughs. For as long as he has existed, has Killua ever made anyone laugh before?

“Fair enough. But one way or another, we found each other again, and that’s the part that matters.”

Killua nods stiffly.

“Come sit with me!” Gon pats the dirt beside himself. “You can feed the rabbits!”

Slowly, hesitantly, Killua comes and sits beside Gon. They’re only a foot apart now. Maybe less. It’s thrilling, sitting so close to someone.

“Animals don’t usually like me,” Killua says. “I think I’ll just watch.”

“That’s fine,” Gon chirps. “It is fun, though. Their noses tickle your hand.”’

A rabbit hops into Gon’s lap and stares up at him expectantly. Smiling, Gon produces more grass from the palm of his hand and holds it out to the rabbit, who wiggles with excitement as he eats. Killua watches, enraptured by the ease and gentleness of Gon’s every interaction.

Gon turns back to Killua and Killua suddenly looks away. It’s too much, sitting so close to Gon and then looking straight into his wide, bright eyes.

“I like your flowers,” Killua mumbles to the dirt, just to have something to say.

“Thank you! Marigolds are one of my absolute favorites.”

Killua nods, still staring at the ground.

“Here,” Gon continues, “I’ll make you one to match!”

Before Killua can stop him, Gon produces a garland of orange marigolds from his palm and holds it out to Killua.

Killua freezes. This is it. Gon’s going to find out. That, or Killua will just run away again. And he knows he’s far too weak to bring himself to do that now, not now that he’s sat beside Gon and made him laugh and seen how gently he holds out his hand to the rabbits.

“I can’t,” Killua says softly.

“You can’t wear the flowers?”

“No. I… I’m…”

_Say it. You knew this was doomed from the start. Say it and let him be repelled and just be done with it._

“I’m a god of death,” Killua says, voice hardly above a whisper. “If I wear them, they’ll just die.”

Surely Gon will flinch. Or wrinkle his nose. Or surreptitiously scoot farther away. Surely he’ll tell Killua it was nice to meet him, really, but he should be going now and won’t ever be coming back

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Gon gasps, slapping a hand over his mouth. “That must’ve been really insensitive of me. And the animals, too. Ugh, that was so rude! I just never stop to think about anything I say, huh?”

Killua simply stares. Gon’s learned he’s a god of death, and his first instinct is to _apologize_ to him?

“Oh no, you’re really offended, right?” Gon buries his face in his hands and groans. “Please, forgive me. I’m just an idiot about things.”

“No,” Killua replies, struggling to find the words. “No, you weren’t insensitive. I’m not offended. Just... surprised, I guess.”

“Surprised?”

Killua picks up a fallen leaf and begins to shred it into tiny pieces.

“Yeah. People just aren’t usually like this when they find out about it.”

“Like what?”

“Not completely horrified.”

Gon blinks his wide brown eyes.

“Why would I be horrified? Death is just part of life, right? And someone’s got to take care of it. It doesn’t make you a monster. In fact, I think it would take a lot of grace to do that every day.”

For a very long moment, Killua is silent.

“You are entirely unlike anyone I have ever met,” he says at last.

Gon grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

“I guess I have always been a bit of an oddball.”

“No,” Killua says, surprising himself with the urgency in his tone. “It’s a good thing. A really good thing.”

Gon smiles, and it looks like he’s about to say something, but just at that moment, one of the rabbits jumps high into the air, twisting and kicking its legs, and Gon just laughs with delight.

And Killua... Killua laughs too.

For the rest of the day, Killua is light as the air. He leaves Gon eventually, but not without the promise to meet up again. It’s a new and fascinating feeling, having something to look forward to. Killua’s never heard sweeter words than, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” As he walks through the forest, the bird songs are brighter and more melodic. The grass is softer and fresher beneath his feet. The sunshine is warmer and more golden. The whole forest has never felt quite so alive.

It’s perfect. It’s something out of a fairytale. It’s the best day Killua can remember.

At least, it’s perfect until dinner that evening, back in Killua’s realm, when Illumi narrows his eyes across the table at Killua in that keen, knowing way.

“How was your day today?” Illumi asks, tone suspiciously neutral.

Killua slowly sets down his glass.

“Fine,” he replies, ensuring his voice betrays no emotion.

Illumi leans his face against his hand and taps his finger against his temple contemplatively. He looks at Killua as if he could see right down to his core.

“No, something’s different about you. I’m certain of it. Something’s happened that you’re not telling me.”

Killua ensures his muscles don’t tense too obviously. He keeps his face from betraying any panic. He doesn’t gasp. He reveals nothing.

He can’t risk Illumi finding out about Gon. He doesn’t know what he might do if he discovers Killua’s been spending time with someone outside of the family, but he’s certain it won’t be good. Illumi won’t permit Killua to keep seeing Gon; of that, he is completely sure. Killua chest clenches desperately as he imagines Illumi forbidding him from seeing Gon again. Or doing something to hurt Gon, punishing him for the clear transgression of showing Killua kindness. That Killua absolutely could not bear.

“It’s probably just the season,” Killua replies. “I’ve always loved changing the leaves.”

Illumi is quiet for a long moment.

“Fine,” he says at last. “But you know what happens when you lie to me.”

Killua doesn’t flinch, despite the instinct to.

“Believe me,” he says, “I know.”

* * *

“Killua!” Gon shouts, waving one hand high above his head and dashing towards him through the trees. Killua waves in return. Already, greeting Gon feels warm and familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

“I brought you something!” Gon says, slightly out of breath, once they’ve reached each other. One hand is hidden behind his back.

“You did?”

Gon bounces on the balls of his feet, struggling to suppress a smile.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims, taking his hand out from behind his back. In it is a garland of flowers like he had yesterday, except in this one, the flowers are all dried. The hues are more muted and the flowers look papery and fragile, but that somehow only adds to their beauty. They’re delicate and elegant and lovely.

“They’re already dead, so you can’t kill them!” Gon looks exceedingly pleased with himself.

Killua doesn’t know why his chest clenches so suddenly and acutely, why he all at once struggles to breathe. It’s so absurdly, impossibly kind. Killua doesn’t think he’s ever been given a gift before, and certainly never one so thoughtful. Gon must’ve thought about their conversation when he returned to his own realm, must have decided he wanted Killua to have flowers regardless. It’s almost unbelievable, how anyone could ever think to do something like that, and for Killua, of all people.

“Thank you,” Killua says softly. “I, um, I’m not really sure what to say.”

Gon just smiles even wider.

“Here, let me put them on you!”

Killua bows slightly, and Gon places the garland of flowers on top of his head. His fingers just barely brush Killua’s hair, sending shivers down his spine.

“Do you like them?” Gon asks eagerly.

Killua looks down at his feet, face burning.

“Yes. I… that was very... you… um, yes. I like them a lot.”

“Good!” Gon says brightly. “You look really nice wearing them.”

Gon is going to be the death of him, bringing Killua a garland of flowers and then telling him he looks nice in them. Killua really won’t be able to withstand much more of this.

“So what did you want to do today?” Killua asks, desperate to change the subject.

“Well, I figured you were going to take care of some more trees, and I thought I could come with you. I mean, if that’s okay, of course. I guess I shouldn’t assume.”

“Yes, Gon,” Killua says, heart inexplicably hammering in his chest. “That’s perfectly okay.”

Gon beams.

Killua thought he would never get closer to happiness than strolling alone through the forest, running his hands along the rough, rich tree bark in the first few weeks of autumn. But today he discovers that with Gon at his side, marveling as Killua’s power ripples and shimmers up the tree trunk and through the branches, happiness takes on new meaning. With Gon at his side, smiling and laughing, happiness no longer toys with him, hinting at its arrival only to vanish at the last moment. With Gon at his side, adjusting the flowers as they slip on Killua’s head, hands grazing Killua’s hair, happiness circulates through his body as naturally as blood, enters into his chest as easily as air. With Gon at his side, Killua, for perhaps the first time, is really and truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE ART NOW SO IM LINKING IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> furixu did [these beautiful pieces of the rabbit scene & the flower garland exchange](https://furixu.tumblr.com/post/622461778218123264/13-universal-bones-by-storybookprincess-for)!!!!!!!!! they're so lovely i can hardly stand it!!!!!
> 
> other than that, the usual, my friends--much love & gratitude for reading, no obligation to comment but they make my whole day & i reply to each one individually!!!! stay safe, healthy, & sane until i see y'all next tuesday!!!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!!!!! thank you for your kind words on the last ch!!!! they really made me smile!!!! i really am so incredibly excited to be sharing this fic & it's wonderful to have you all along for the ride!!!! i very rarely write aus, but i wanted to challenge myself for the bang & i can hardly wait for the story to unfold!!!!
> 
> warnings for the ch: standard zoldyck family dysfunction, vaguely implied abuse, animal death (bird) (but it's a sweet scene, not heartbreaking--i promise!!!)
> 
> alrighty, that's about it for me!!! pls enjoy!!!!

They fall into a routine of sorts. Killua and Gon meet up each morning and spend the day wandering the forest as Killua attends to the trees. They’ll walk for miles and miles at a time, deep into parts of the forest to which Killua’s never been before. They often gain an animal companion--a bird who perches on Gon’s shoulder, or a fox who trots eagerly at his side. And like a prince from a storybook, Gon smiles and strokes them and feeds them right out of his hand. The animals avoid Killua, but it’s no matter. He’s more than content to watch Gon.

Gon brings Killua small gifts from his realm--sweet cakes baked with honey, an especially beautiful polished stone, a music box that plays a soft, gentle tune when Killua opens it. Once he learns Killua likes chocolate, he brings him small, delicious pieces as often as he can. Killua grows no more accustomed to the gifts; each one leaves him blushing and stuttering and staring determinedly at his feet. But Gon doesn’t seem to mind. He always smiles and eagerly asks if Killua likes it. And Killua, usually mumbling at the ground, always says yes.

And the few times Killua can muster up the courage to bring Gon a gift in return--a sachet of dried tea leaves, a small figurine carved from wood, a pair of thick woollen socks--it’s perhaps more unbearable. Gon always beams so broadly and bounces up and down and thanks Killua over and over until Killua mutters that it’s embarrassing and Gon relents, but only just.

The seasons change slowly. The leaves turn bright and brilliant and fall, the wind grows colder, and the sun sets ever earlier. Gon shows Killua the joy of making an enormous pile of leaves and then taking a running start to leap into it. The leaves that get up the back of Killua’s shirt are itchy, but he finds he doesn’t mind at all, not with Gon laughing and shouting with delight and throwing a handful into the air so that they fall over the two of them like confetti.

Killua finds himself so caught up in the joy of spending his days with Gon that he forgets what the changing of the seasons really means. The colder days and longer nights don’t mean piles of leaves and long walks in the crisp air, not to Killua. The arrival of winter means that food grows scarcer. It means that illnesses take hold. It means that the cold drains the life out of anything unprotected from it. Killua forgot that winter means death.

And of course, he’s reminded.

Killua finds Gon crouched down by the base of a tree early one morning, the frost still shimmering on the ground, with something cradled in his hands. At Killua’s footsteps, he looks up, and his eyes are swimming with tears.

Killua stops dead, the air punched from his lungs. Gon shouldn’t be sad. It goes against the very nature of the universe. Killua is not certain of much, but of that, he is. Gon shouldn’t suffer.

In an instant, he’s at Gon’s side. There’s a small bird cradled in Gon’s hands, its chest stuttering up and down with rapid, shallow breaths. Gon’s hands shake as he holds it.

For just a moment, Killua considers placing a hand on Gon’s back in a show of comfort, but he quickly thinks better of it. It’s absurdly presumptuous to imagine Gon would ever want Killua touching him, that it would bring him any feeling besides displeasure.

“Gon,” Killua says softly. “What is it? Is she hurt?”

“She’s sick,” Gon says, voice shaky. “And I can’t help her. She’s too far gone for my power to do any good.”

It’s true. There is a tipping point of sorts, a place where a being is closer to death than life. Once anything reaches that point, once death has sunk its claws in deeply enough, no magic in the world can reverse it.

“She’s suffering,” Gon continues, inhaling shakily. “I can sense it. She’s in pain and she’s burning up with a fever. She’s so thirsty, but she’s too weak to drink. I don’t want to leave her alone, not when she feels so awful. I don’t know how long she’s going to have to endure this before it’s finally over.”

“Do you want me to help?” Killua offers. “I mean, if it’s really inevitable, I could make it painless and swift. It would be over in an instant. She wouldn’t even feel it. And then she wouldn’t be suffering anymore.”

The moment Killua says it, the regret overwhelms him. What a horrible thing to offer, to end the small, fragile life Gon’s cradling in his hands. It’s really all Killua is good for, isn’t it? Killing. It’s his twisted, depraved notion of how to help. The shame makes him feel hot and sick.

But much to Killua’s surprise, Gon doesn’t recoil in horror.

“Would you?” he asks, looking up at Killua with wide, desperate eyes. “I can’t bear to let her spend hours like this.”

“Of course,” Killua says. “Would you rather turn around?”

Gon blinks.

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s just, I don’t know. It’s not the sort of thing people like to watch.”

“No,” Gon says. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

Killua reaches out a trembling hand. Gon claims that this is merciful. He seems like he won’t be horrified. But he hasn’t yet witnessed Killua kill with his bare hands. His mind could very well change.

Slowly, giving Gon every chance to tell him to stop, Killua reaches towards the bird, and in one smooth, gentle movement, strokes down her side. All at once, she sighs deeply, the trembling stops, and she goes limp in Gon’s hands.

Killua holds perfectly still, not daring to breathe, waiting for Gon to say something. Waiting for him to be repulsed.

“Thank you,” Gon says, voice soft and reverent. “Thank you. She’s not in any pain anymore.”

Killua isn’t sure what this strange, buoyant feeling is, but it’s sudden and overwhelming, making him almost dizzy with pleasure.

“Of course,” he says.

“I’ll bury her under this tree,” Gon says. “It doesn’t feel right just to leave her lying on the ground.”

Gon sets down the bird on a fallen leaf and begins to dig into the dirt with his hands. The earth is hard with cold, but Gon digs determinedly until he’s gotten about a foot deep. Then he takes the bird and wraps her in two leaves and places her in the hole.

Killua watches from a distance as Gon fills the hole with dirt. He seems to know what to do, and Killua doesn’t want to be getting in the way. Killua can kill, certainly, but he knows precious little about mourning. After he’s done what he must, he’s never wanted to stick around long enough to witness the aftermath.

Once the hole is filled, Gon comes to stand beside Killua. The two of them survey the small mound of earth side by side, silent.

And then, before Killua realizes what’s happening, Gon reaches down and takes Killua’s hand.

It only lasts a few moments--Gon gives him a quick squeeze and lets go--but it’s utterly exhilarating. Killua tries not to gasp, but Gon’s hand is so large and warm and rough with callouses and the dirt on his palm is soft and crumbly and he’s touching Killua, of all people. For a few precious seconds their palms are pressed together and their fingers wrap around each other like an embrace. Only their hands touch, but all of Killua’s body suddenly grows warm and pleasantly shivery. Every inch of his skin seems to come alive for the very first time.

Killua can’t recall the last time anyone touched him kindly. He has no memories of ever being held as a child, of anyone tucking him into bed and brushing back his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, not even of a brief pat on the shoulder. Whenever he was touched, it was done for the sole purpose of inflicting as much pain as could be achieved. This is so very different. So thrilling and soothing and exhilarating and comforting all at once. Killua’s throat tightens oddly at the soft, gentle warmth of Gon’s hand in his own, but it isn’t the bad sort of tightness.

Gon releases his hold after hardly a second, and it takes every ounce of Killua’s self control not to snatch his hand back immediately, not to demand he hold Killua’s hand from here to eternity.

“Thank you, Killua. Thank you for helping.”

Killua stares down at the ground, face unbearably hot.

“Yeah. Anytime.”

* * *

Killua doesn’t wipe the dirt from his hand.

How could he? It’s dark and soft and smells of sweet, rich earth and it’s a reminder that Gon touched him, if only for the briefest of moments. He imagines Gon is touching him still, through the dirt. That they’re somehow connected. He could wash his hands. Should, probably. But he can’t bring himself to, can’t sever the tie to Gon, even if it’s only imagined.

But, as usual, Killua’s decision turns out to be a mistake.

“What’s that on your hand?” Illumi asks from across the table that evening.

Killua, in a foolish display of guilt, hastily shoves his hand beneath the table.

“Um, it’s just some dirt,” he mumbles. “I fell in the woods today.”

Illumi quirks an eyebrow and raises his glass to his lips, taking a long slow drink.

“Really?” he asks, setting his glass back down. “You fell?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“Hmm.” Illumi taps a long, skeletal finger against his chin. “And how exactly did you fall, Killua?”

It’s ridiculous. Killua shouldn’t lose his head so quickly when Illumi confronts him, not if he has any hope of concealing his meetings with Gon. But the scars run deep, into Killua’s very consciousness. With nothing but a change in tone, Illumi has turned Killua back into a frightened child curled in a corner, trembling and crying in a futile plea for mercy.

“I tripped on a root,” Killua mutters.

“I see.”

For a long moment, Illumi is quiet. Killua forces himself to look him in the eyes, despite every instinct telling him not to. The seconds turn interminable as Illumi’s eyes bore deep into Killua. Killua resolutely holds his gaze, counting the every beat of his pounding heart.

“Fine,” Illumi sas at last. “But perhaps I should check up on you more when you venture beyond our realm. We wouldn’t want anything happening to you while you’re alone out there, now would we?”

Killua bites his lip and nods stiffly. 

“And be sure to wash your hands before dinner next time, would you?”

Illumi smiles at Killua, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

* * *

Killua keeps jumping at every snapped twig.

He can’t help it. Illumi’s eerie, vacant smile lingers in his mind. His suggestion to check up on Killua repeats endlessly in his memory. Every shadow in the forest becomes Illumi hiding behind a tree. Every rustle in the underbrush means Killua’s being followed.

Killua’s imagination spins wildly out of control as he envisions what might happen if Illumi confronted him in the forest. He might attack Gon, Killua thinks, stomach turning with sickening speed. As a god, Illumi specializes in violent deaths, so he’s picked up quite a few tricks over the centuries. Perhaps Gon can’t be killed, but gods aren’t immune to pain; Killua knows that fact intimately. And so Illumi could advance upon Gon and pull out one of those needles that always seem to appear from thin air and attack.

Killua would protect Gon. He knows that in his bones, in every vertebra in his spine. He’d throw his body in front of Gon’s should it come to that. He’d agree to go home with Illumi, never to see Gon again, to endure whatever new, horrificially creative torture Illumi wishes to inflict upon him from now to eterntiy, if it meant Gon would be safe, Whatever it took--his body, his freedom, his sanity, his soul--he’d give it all without a second thought if it spared Gon. Please, not Gon. Killua doesn’t care what happens to himself, but please,  _ please,  _ not Gon.

“Killua?” Gon asks. 

Killua breaks from his reverie, from imagining the increasingly stomach turning ways in which Illumi might hurt Gon. He is here, in front of Killua, safe and whole. For now that is the only anchor Killua has, and he clings to it.

“Yes?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem quite like yourself today. Are you okay?”

It shouldn’t make Killua’s chest clench so intensely, but it does, Gon noticing his tension and asking after it. When in all his existence has anyone asked Killua if he was okay?

“Yeah,” Killua says. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

He trails off.

“Just what?” Gon asks.

Killua takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really know where to begin, how to explain about Illumi and his parents and the unending violence and cruelty, but he’ll try. He’ll try, if only so Gon can know to be careful.

“I, well, my family…” Killua trails off, then tries again. “You see, they sort of…” Again, the words fail him. “It’s always… I mean, they…”

Why is it so hard to get the words out? They seem to catch in Killua’s throat, choking him.

“Here, let’s sit down,” Gon says, gesturing to a fallen log large enough for the both of them. Killua nods and comes to sit beside Gon.

Killua scuffs at the dirt with his shoe, watching as he wears a depression into the ground. For a long moment, he’s quiet.

“My family, they’re not like you,” he says at last.

“How do you mean?”

Killua twists his foot harder into the dirt.

“I mean that you’re a good person. You… you don’t want to hurt people. My family isn’t like that.”

“They do want to hurt people?” Gon asks softly.

Killua nods.

“And people includes you, right?”

Killua hesitates for a moment. And then nods again.

“My brother, Illumi, he’s probably the worst of them,” Killua murmurs, still looking at the ground. “He’s really smart, and I’m worried he might know about how we’re spending time together. I’m worried he might be watching us. And he wouldn’t be happy about it. At all.”

Gon reaches out and covers Killua’s hand with his own. Killua’s breath catches for just a moment. It’s as if Gon were shielding him.

“And he’d hurt you, right?” Gon asks.

Killua, still staring at the ground, shakes his head.

“No. Or maybe. He might. But I don’t really care about that. I… I’m worried he might do something to  _ you.  _ And it feels so selfish, to keep spending time with you, to keep putting you in danger. So if you want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you. I think it would be better, really. Better than Illumi finding you.”

Gon, suddenly and inexplicably, laughs.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Killua, out of sheer shock, looks up at Gon. He doesn’t look frightened in the least. His cheeks are flushed and eyes shine with a fierce determination.

“Like I’d just stop spending time with you because your brother’s an asshole.”

“Gon, no, you don’t understand,” Killua says, tone urgent. Gon needs to appreciate the sort of danger he’s in. “He’s not just an asshole. He’s… he’s awful. He’s violent and cruel and sadistic and he’d  _ hurt  _ you. Please, can you try to understand that? Really understand. He could do something terrible.”

Gon tightens his hand over Killua’s.

“No, Killua, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You’re my friend. Being with you makes me happy, okay? Really happy. I’m not just going to leave. And if your brother shows up, I’ll handle it. I’ll protect you. That’s a promise.”

Killua tears his gaze away from Gon, staring at the dirt again, cheeks burning.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he mutters, unsure what this strange heart-pounding, breathless feeling is squirming around his insides.

“What, that you’re my friend? Or that being around you makes me happy? It’s the truth. And because we’re friends, it’s my job to protect you. You’re not supposed to let bad things happen to your friends.”

Gon takes Killua’s hand in his own, no longer merely resting atop it. Their fingers interlace and Killua could just die.

“If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself,” Killua says, but he knows his resolve is crumbling. Gon’s hand in his own has overwhelmed his better judgement entirely.

“You don’t need to worry about that, because nothing’s gonna happen. Not to me, and certainly not to you.”

Killua scuffs at the dirt for a few long moments.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Fine. I guess… I guess we’ll handle it together. Whatever happens.”

“Exactly,” Gon says brightly. “No matter what it is, we’ll face it together.”

Together. What a strange, beautiful word. Killua can’t recall ever saying it before, but now it feels as natural as breathing. Killua and Gon, together. Of course. Pain or misery or cruelty or violence, it doesn’t matter, not when it’s the two of them. They’re together. They’ll handle whatever comes their way together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more art??????? MORE ART!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> beamiedraws blessed us w these incredible pieces of [the first time killua spots gon in the forest, killua's home in the underworld, and the bird scene](https://beamiedraws.tumblr.com/post/622462443577376768/hxhbigbang2020-time-this-year-i-was-granted)!!!!!!!! they're just so magnificent!!!!! /komugi voice/ "could something so wonderful happen to someone like me?????"
> 
> anyway, i am still adoring and replying to every comment i receive!!!! until next tuesday, dear readers!!!!! xo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS CHAPTER W YOU ALL THAT I CANT EVEN SAY!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> no warnings for this one i believe. pls enjoy!!!!!!!!

Winter isn’t quite so bad this year.

Normally the shorter days and long, cold nights make Killua miserable. There’s so much death, so much illness, so much suffering. Normally Killua merely prays for the dreary few months to pass as quickly as painlessly as possible. Normally the winter feels impossibly long, until Killua can hardly seem to remember a time that wasn’t dark and grey and bitingly cold. But this year is different. This year, there’s Gon.

Gon, strolling through the forest beside Killua, bare feet seemingly immune to the cold. Gon, checking up on the hibernating bears, finding the ones who are most vulnerable by instinct alone and stroking a hand down their thick fur to help revive them. Gon, feeding the hungry squirrels out of his hand, warming a raccoon who fell into a cold lake, doing his utmost to help any animal he encounters.

And when he comes across something too far gone to help, something that has passed the tipping point between life and death, it’s Killua’s turn. He strokes down the animal’s side gently, and it sighs and relaxes and passes on from this world peacefully. Killua’s power feels less and less like a curse these days, not when Gon thanks him so genuinely for doing what he must and buries the small creature beneath the dirt with a smile. No, Killua’s power, his fate, feels more like something natural, like the obvious complement to Gon’s vital energy. It feels balanced. Death and life walking the forest together, side by side, step in step.

And of course, Killua enjoys the winter simply because it’s spent with Gon, with his laughter and kindness and joy and determination and relentless enthusiasm. Gon continues to be the most magnificent thing Killua’s ever seen, tall and beautiful and radiant and nearly always smiling the most captivating smile. Simply being near him makes Killua’s heart pound frantically in his chest, makes his stomach hollow out so thrillingly, like in a free fall. If this were eternity, spending his days with Gon in the forest, walking together, steps perfectly synchronized, Killua wouldn’t complain. This must be what it feels like to have a purpose, he supposes, and it’s a fascinating, warm, delighted feeling, radiating from his chest down each of his limbs until he’s utterly weightless.

Killua doesn’t name the strange breathless feeling. He isn’t quite yet ready to admit to himself what this joy and terror and adoration must mean, but somewhere deep within himself, he knows. He knows what he feels. What he wants. Even if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it’s there all the same, making his heart pound and his hands tremble and his mouth go dry. Deep within himself, Killua knows.

* * *

The winter solstice has always been a strange day for Killua. It’s the shortest, coldest day of the year. The world is halfway through the dark, so deep inside of it that they’ve all but forgotten the feeling of the sun on their skin. The nights are long, sunlight is a rare blessing, and there’s three long, cold, bleak months before spring comes. Three months of death and illness and small, shivering creatures stuck out in the biting winds. It’s difficult for Killua not to become hopeless and discouraged as the sun glares off the stark white snow and the bare trees splinter the low, grey sky.

Or perhaps it would be difficult if these were the usual circumstances, if Killua hadn’t just spotted Gon’s fast-approaching form through the trees.

“Killua!” he shouts, dashing towards Killua across the snowy ground like he does when they meet each morning. Every time, he runs to Killua, as if the two of them were somehow drawn to each other.

“Hi,” Killua replies, wondering if he’ll ever grow accustomed to Gon saying his name, if it’ll ever stop his heart from clenching desperately in his chest.

“I know what we’re going to do today!” Gon’s breath comes in soft, white puffs and his cheeks are flushed with cold.

“You do?”

“Yup! We’re going to celebrate the solstice, and I know just the thing. Come with me!”

Before Killua can say anything, Gon has turned and is darting through the forest, agilely leaping over fallen logs and weaving between trees. And Killua follows. Of course he does. He isn’t sure there will ever come a time he won’t follow behind Gon.

They run for nearly a mile, Gon occasionally turning back to check that Killua’s behind him. Every time he does, he beams, and Killua nearly loses his balance in the snow. Gon can’t just smile at him without warning. Killua’s quick and nimble; he could likely pass Gon if he tried. But he can’t bring himself to. Then Gon wouldn’t turn back and smile at him, brighter and warmer than a star. Then Killua wouldn’t get to watch Gon’s feet hit the earth and his arms pump at his sides, strong and muscular. Then Gon wouldn’t call out Killua’s name, assuring him it’s just a bit farther now. So Killua simply has to stay behind as they run.

At last, after several long minutes dashing through the forest, they come into a clearing.

Killua doesn’t know how he’s never been to this particular part of the forest--he thought he knew every inch of it by now. But he hasn’t seen this clearing before, a nearly perfect circle ringed by tall, bare trees and covered in white, shimmering snow, with a frozen pond, perhaps thirty meters across, right at the center. It’s like something from a storybook, impossibly lovely and picturesque.

Gon turns back to Killua and spreads his arms out wide.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims. “What do you think?”

Killua pauses for just a moment.

“It’s beautiful,” he says softly.

Gon grins.

“It’s more than just beautiful,” he says. “Here, come with me.”

Gon leads Killua to a hollowed out tree a few meters to the left of the pond. He reaches his hand inside before pulling out an ice skate, then another, then two more. He sets two in front of Killua, smiling at him expectantly.

“I don’t know how,” Killua says. “I’ve never skated before.”

“I figured as much,” Gon says, already pulling a skate onto his foot. “That’s why I’m going to teach you.”

Killua hesitates, but only for the briefest of moments. He knows he’ll never refuse Gon anything, not with him tightening the laces with a furrow in his brow, so perfect and radiant that Killua can hardly bear it.

So Killua too sits in the snow and pulls on the skates. He’s a little worried about embarrassing himself in front of Gon, falling on his face like a fool, but he knows Gon well enough by now not to fret too much. Gon isn’t cruel--he wouldn’t mock Killua for falling. No, he’d reach his hand down to help Killua up from the ground, smiling. And then he might pull Killua closer to himself, wrapping an arm snugly around his waist, and the other might come up to cradle Killua’s face. And his hand would be freezing against Killua’s skin, but he wouldn’t mind, and Gon might stroke Killua’s cheek, and it would be obvious that they were both panting hard from the quick bursts of white breath from each of their mouths, and then Gon might--

“Ready to go?” Gon asks.

Killua looks up at Gon, blinking for just a moment.

“Um. Yeah.”

The two of them teeter to the edge of the pond, then sit down and remove the guards from their skates. Gon steps out onto the pond, taking a few long, gliding strides across the ice, before quickly spinning back to Killua.

“You seem good at this,” Killua says.

Gon smiles.

“I’ve skated every winter for as long as I can remember. It’s really fun!”

Killua hesitates, still seated at the edge of the pond.

“I’m worried I’ll fall,” he says.

“You won’t,” Gon says, with a tone of complete certainty. “Because I’m not going to let you.”

He reaches his hands down to Killua and Killua slowly, trembling only slightly, places his hands in Gon’s, and Gon pulls him up so he’s standing. The two of them are maybe a foot apart. Maybe. A foot at most. Killua can count each of Gon’s freckles and drink in the perfect curve of his eyelashes and note the particular shade of cold-flushed red of his mouth.

Killua begins to sway, tilting backwards and just about to fall, but Gon’s grip on his hands keeps him upright.

“I told you, Killua,” Gon says softly. “I’m never going to let you fall. Never.”

Killua’s heart slams into his sternum in a frantic rhythm. He simply nods.

“Do you want to try to skate a bit? We’ll go slow, okay?”

Killua nods again. He isn’t quite sure he can speak, not with Gon’s hands in his own and their bodies so agonizingly close and the warmth of Gon’s breath on his face.

Gon glides backwards very slowly, holding both of Killua’s hands in his own, and Killua tries to follow, placing one unsteady leg in front of him. Then another. Then another.

“There!” Gon says brightly. “You’re doing great!”

Despite the cold, Killua is suddenly far too warm.

“That’s it,” Gon says, as Killua teeters on trembling legs like a newborn deer. “You’re getting it. Look at me, okay? It’ll help you keep your balance to look forward and not down.”

Killua looks up at Gon and regrets it immediately. His eyes are so soft and tender and bright and he’s smiling ever so slightly and his cheeks are flushed the loveliest shade of pink and Killua all at once loses his balance, his knees beginning to buckle beneath him.

But in an instant, Gon’s hands are at his waist, miraculously keeping him upright. His hands are warm even through Killua’s sweater and the pressure is so perfect and Killua wants nothing more than to stay here for eternity, Gon’s hands on his waist and his body warm and close in the cold.

Once it’s clear Killua won’t fall, Gon removes his hands from Killua’s waist, trailing along his sides ever so slightly as he does. Killua shivers, but not from the cold. Gon’s hands are so perfect and gentle and light, and when he takes Killua’s hands once more, Killua debates losing his balance on purpose so Gon will hold him by the waist again.

The two of them skate slowly, Gon keeping up a constant stream of encouragement and suggestions until Killua stops wobbling quite so much and even begins to move with a bit of grace. Gon keeps his word--Killua doesn’t fall. Gon keeps him standing, like he has since the very beginning, like Killua wants him to forever. Their pace grows faster bit by bit, until it eventually becomes natural, Killua gliding over the ice with his hands in Gon’s like he’d been doing it for years.

After a few passes around the lake without Killua stumbling even once, Gon stops them.

“You’ve gotten it!” he says brightly. “I don’t think you need me leading you around anymore.”

_ Damn it.  _ Killua was a fool. He should’ve pretended to stumble every few minutes, just to keep Gon guiding him around the pond, just to keep Gon’s hands holding his.

“I don’t know. I’m still worried I might fall,” Killua says.  _ Please, let Gon agree. Let him keep his hands in mine. _

“How about this,” Gon offers. “We’ll skate beside each other, and you can still hold onto me for balance.”

Before Killua can answer, Gon spins around so he’s beside Killua and takes his hand in his own.

Killua may be clueless about a great deal of the world, but he isn’t completely naive. He knows what they’re doing. Holding hands as they skate, like lovers do. Gon probably doesn’t even consider the implication, but it’s all Killua can think of. Gon, holding his hand. Gon, kissing him and brushing back Killua’s hair from his forehead and holding him. Gon, a lover.

Please, don’t let him feel the frantic beating of Killua’s heart through his palm.

“Is this okay?” Gon asks.

“Um. Yes. It’s fine.” It’s all Killua can do to get the words out.

“Great! Let’s give it a try then, okay?”

Killua nods.

And then they’re skating, strides perfectly matched, hand in hand, breath white in the cold and cheeks flushed red. It’s like something out of a book. Like the climax. Like the scene where the lovers finally confess and kiss for the very first time as the snow falls softly around them.

It’s stupid, of course. To think Gon would ever want Killua, to imagine he feels as Killua does when their hands are joined. Gon is radiance itself. He could have anyone from any world. Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with Killua.

But as they skate around the pond, hand in hand, Killua allows himself to play make-believe. He allows himself to imagine that he and Gon feel the same, that they’re lovers, or something like it. That Gon looks at Killua and his heart pounds and his stomach swoops and that he’s mesmerized by the red flush of Killua’s mouth in the cold. And that they’ll finish skating and collapse onto the bank of the pond, breathing hard, and Gon will prop himself up on one arm and look right into Killua’s eyes and kiss him.

“Careful!” Gon says, as Killua stumbles, free arm flailing to try to keep his balance. “I’m not gonna break my promise and have you falling on me.”

Killua nods, cheeks growing warm. He shouldn’t have let his imagination run away with him so wildly.

“Let’s call it a day, huh?” Gon says. “We must’ve been at it for a couple hours now. You’re probably tired.”

Killua considers protesting, assuring Gon he could keep going for several hours more, for eternity, just to keep Gon’s hand in his own, but he thinks better of it. If Gon would rather them stop, Killua won’t argue. He won’t force Gon to be near him any longer than he wants.

So, still hand in hand, Killua and Gon skate to the edge of the pond. Killua sits down on the bank and Gon releases his hand. It feels wrong, for that warmth and pressure to be gone so suddenly. Gon’s hand in his own just felt right. Felt natural. Not holding his hand is so inexplicably strange.

But Killua doesn’t make a fuss. He won’t impose on Gon’s good graces any longer. He unties his skates and pulls back on his own shoes, the follows behind Gon to place them into the hollowed out tree.

He crouches down beside the tree, trying to find the right angle to get the skates inside; it’s a tight fit, but he gets it eventually. Killua removes his hand from the tree and goes to stand when a cold, wet lump hits him squarely in the back of the head.

Killua spins around immediately, heart pounding, desperately scanning the area for any threats, but all he sees is Gon leaning down, gathering snow into his hands and packing it tightly together. A snowball. Of course. Killua can’t help the slight smile that blossoms on his face as he reaches down for some snow too.

Killua’s never had a snowball fight before, but he understands the general premise. Hurl snowballs at your opponent until the both of you collapse from exhaustion. So he obliges, dashing around the clearing and pelting Gon with as many snowballs as he can. Gon has a more powerful throw and makes better, more solid snowballs, but Killua has the superior reflexes and agility of the two. They’re relatively evenly matched, so the battle drags on, the two of them shouting and laughing and chasing each other with increasingly poorly aimed throws.

Killua is certain they look ridiculous, is certain his family would be appalled at his childish behavior, but he can’t bring himself to care, not with Gon throwing his head back and laughing and Killua taking the opportunity to hit him square in the face.

Gon freezes, wide eyes blinking as the snow slowly drips from his face. He looks so shocked and bewildered that Killua can’t help but double over on himself, laughing uproariously.

“That was no fair!” Gon shouts, but he’s laughing too. “Faces are absolutely off limits!”

Killua can’t bring himself to answer, not with the laughter shaking his whole frame.

Gon scoops up two handfuls of snow and sprints straight at Killua. Killua is laughing too hard to run away, and so Gon reaches him and shoves the handfuls of snow up the back of Killua’s shirt. It’s so startling cold that Killua shrieks in spite of himself.

“There,” Gon says, sounding very satisfied. “Now we’re even.”

Killua, however, scoops up a handful of snow himself and shoves it down the back collar of Gon’s shirt in retaliation.

“Hey! I said we were even!”

Killua merely reaches down for more snow.

“Fine,” Gon says, rubbing his hands together, “if that’s how you want this to be.”

Killua loses track of who’s winning as they shove snow at any available skin they can find. Killua’s wet and shivering and utterly freezing, but he’s laughing so hard he can barely stand it, taking a handful of snow and mashing it down into Gon’s hair. When their hands have gone too numb to grasp the snow, the fight devolves into all out wrestling, Gon swiping a foot under Killua’s legs and dragging him to the ground, breathless with laughter. They two struggle before Killua manages to flip Gon onto his back, only to be flipped swiftly in return. Gon grabs Killua’s wrists in his hands and pins them up by Killua’s head, sitting on Killua’s abdomen and grinning triumphantly.

“There,” he says, panting hard. “I win.”

Killua sticks out his tongue.

And then, all at once, something shifts. Like an animal that raises its head and looks to the sky before there’s a single stormcloud on the horizon, Killua simply  _ knows.  _ He knows something is about to happen. He knows from the way Gon’s gaze lingers on Killua’s mouth and the way Gon’s breath is coming harder than ever and the way Killua’s heart pounds frantically but eagerly in his chest. Gon’s gaze flicks from Killua’s mouth to his eyes and back to his mouth again and presses his own lips together, drawing in a sharp breath.

It couldn’t be… It couldn’t possibly… Gon wouldn’t want to, surely. Surely he isn’t thinking exactly what Killua is, that they’re cold and wet and breathing hard and that their mouths are perhaps a foot apart and that they could very easily warm themselves up again. But Gon’s gaze burns so hot and desperate and hungry and he may… He may very well…

Killua’s heart pounds. His breathing goes fast and shallow. He gazes into Gon’s eyes, mesmerized by his impossibly wide pupils, by the pure desperation shining in them. A drop of water drips down from Gon’s damp hair and onto Killua’s cheek. Killua gasps and Gon tightens his grip on Killua’s wrists and Killua is absolutely certain of what comes next.

“Well, that was fun,” Gon says abruptly, all at once getting off of Killua. He stands and wipes the snow from his knees.

Killua blinks, bewildered. What just happened? Why did Gon move away? He feels so cold and exposed without Gon’s comforting weight on top of him.

Killua’s heart drops low into his stomach. Of course. How much of an idiot can he be? Really, to think Gon would kiss him. To think Gon would want him. He simply got caught up in the heat of the moment like an utter fool. He shouldn’t have indulged in that ridiculous fantasy earlier. Clearly it primed him to think of Gon wanting him like that, and he had almost gone and ruined everything.

Killua can be grateful for that at least, grateful that Gon put some distance between the two of them before Killua did something unforgivably rash, like thread his hand into Gon’s hair and gaze up into his eyes and pull him down and…

Yes, it’s better this way. Better that it stopped before Killua could go and ruin things.

Gon reaches down a hand to Killua. Killua hesitates just a moment before taking it.

“We should go skating again,” Gon says brightly, pulling Killua to his feet.

“Yes,” Killua says stiffly, hoping he can pass off the flush in his cheeks to the cold. “We should.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Gon says.

“Of course.”

And with that, Gon turns and heads for the woods. Killua watches his retreating form until he fully disappears into the trees.

Killua’s head spins as he heads back to his own realm. Of course Gon hadn’t wanted to kiss him. Of course Killua had simply read too much into things, had imposed his desires on Gon. There’s no other explanation.

But Gon had gazed at his mouth, hadn’t he? Did Killua really imagine the hunger in his eyes? Could it be that Gon had wanted him, if only for the briefest of moments, if only to have thought better of it immediately? Killua would take it, take it gladly, Gon wanting him for just an instant. If Gon had kissed him just once, just once and never again, Killua wouldn’t complain. One kiss would be impossibly perfect, just a second of Gon’s lips against his. He wouldn’t ask for anything more, not for all his existence.

Perhaps Gon had thought it too. Perhaps Gon really had been about to kiss him. Killua can’t help the wide smile on his face, the warmth that spreads throughout his limbs, as he enters the tall, wrought iron gates to the Underworld. Gon feeling for Killua even a fraction of what Killua feels for him is so impossibly, dizzyingly perfect. Gon wanting Killua, even for hardly a second. It’s almost too beautiful to be believed.

“Hi, Kill,” Illumi says. Killua starts, jumping in spite of himself. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Illumi lurking just inside the entrance to the Underworld.

“Hi,” Killua replies.

“So,” Illumi says slowly, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face, “did you and that Gon boy have a good time skating today?”

All at once, Killua goes terrifyingly, sickeningly, horribly cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......................... i'm sorry.
> 
> by way of apology, have some more art!!!!!!!!
> 
> i was very much hoping someone would illustrate something from the ice skating date and FURIXU DELIVERED W [THESE GORGEOUS PIECES](https://furixu.tumblr.com/post/622461808923607041/23-universal-bones-by-storybookprincess-for)!!!!!!!!!!!! i really lucked out on this big bang w getting two incredible artists and i'm going to tattoo all of this art directly onto my face!!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!!!!! i really enjoyed writing this chapter & am so excited to share it w all of you, but before we get into it, i just want to warn everyone.
> 
> **this chapter contains some very blatant on-screen emotional manipulation & abuse & general garbage behavior. proceed w caution should that be a sensitive topic w you**
> 
> alright, pls enjoy!!!!!

“Come now, Kill,” Illumi says, his voice equal parts venom and honey. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

Killua can’t breathe. He can’t speak. He can’t blink. All he can do is hold perfectly still and try not to vomit as the ground tilts violently beneath his feet.

Illumi smiles, wide and sinister.

“You’ve been spending time together for quite a few months now. It seems like you have a lot of fun with him, huh?”

Gods, Killua was such an idiot. So unforgivably stupid. He knows better. He knows there’s no escaping Illumi’s far-reaching grasp. He knows he’s always being watched. But he’d thought he was clever. He’d thought he had actually managed to hide something for the first time in his life. His hands clench into fists, his nails digging hard into his palms. He can’t imagine a time he’ll ever forgive himself for this.

“You must think he’s your friend, right, Kill?”

“Please,” Killua says hoarsely, at last regaining his capacity for speech.

“Please what?”

“Please don’t hurt him. Please. Please don’t do anything to him.”

Illumi chuckles.

“ _ Please,”  _ Killua begs, throat tightening. “I’ll do anything. Anything you ask of me. It doesn’t matter what you want to do to me. I don’t care. Just please,  _ please  _ don’t hurt him. This was my fault. Don’t punish him for my mistakes. Illumi,  _ please. _ ”

“Aww, Kill,” Illumi croons. “Such devotion. It’s adorable. I’ve never seen you like this. Really, it’s just precious.”

Killua wants to be sick. He breathes in sharply through his nose to try to fend off the wave of nausea for just a bit longer.

“I’m not going to do anything to Gon. I don’t know what you take me for. Really, you make it sound like I’d just go around hurting people.”

Killua stays silent. He knows better than to contradict. Or protest. Or cry. Keep still and silent and just endure it. He’s known those rules for as long as he can remember.

“No, I’m not going to do anything to Gon. I just thought you and I should talk. That’s all I want to do. Just a chat between brothers. That’s not so bad, right?”

Killua nods stiffly.

“That’s fine,” he manages.

“Good,” Illumi says. If Killua didn’t know better, he could mistake that tone for warmth. “Then why don’t you come with me? We’ll go for a walk through the gardens.”

Killua is certain no good can come from this, certain Illumi has some plot to punish Killua for his transgressions, but he knows he isn’t allowed the privilege of refusing. So, legs trembling, he walks behind Illumi.

Illumi takes long, purposeful strides through the yard towards the garden, a large, gated plot of land with long stone pathways wending their way through the flora. Nearly every plant that grows within the gates is poisonous--hemlock and wolfsbane and nightshade and foxglove and countless others Killua hasn’t yet learned the names of. For as devastating their effects--the vomiting and paralysis and pain--the plants themselves are actually quite beautiful, flowers of delicate pink and purple and white. Seemingly harmless, but utterly deadly. They remind Killua of Illumi.

Illumi walks confidently along the path, and Killua follows obediently, head down, vision tunneling. It’s all he can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. All he can do to avoid falling to the ground and retching and crying and begging.

Several yards into the garden, Illumi takes a seat on a grey stone bench. He pats the space beside him. Killua obeys, joining him.

“So,” Illumi says, plucking a flower up from beside the bench. “You love him.”

Killua opens his mouth to protest but Illumi holds up a hand to silence him.

“We both know you’ve already lied to me. You don’t want to go and make things any worse for yourself, do you?”

Killua shakes his head.

“Good,” Illumi says, tearing a petal from the flower and letting it flutter to the ground. “So you love him. And you really thought he was going to kiss you today.”

Killua goes to open his mouth, but shuts it again quickly.

“That’s it, Kill. No lying. You’ve always been a fast learner.”

Killua stares at his feet, throat tightening.

“Now I knew you were naive, but this is a bit much even for you. I worry about you, going out in the world without the first idea how things really work.”

Killua raises his head and looks at Illumi, brow furrowed.

“To think Gon would want to kiss you, I mean. Come now, surely you know he wouldn’t do that. Surely you know he wouldn’t feel that way for you.”

Killua’s stomach tightens into a sick knot. Illumi’s right, of course, as much as Killua hates to admit it. To imagine Gon would ever want him. He knew it was ridiculous, but to hear Illumi confirm it so directly hits like a blow to the chest.

“Now I want you to answer this honestly, okay?” Illumi continues. “Why do you think Gon would want you? What do you possibly think you have to offer him?”

Killua hesitates, a strange, hot tension bubbling up in his insides. Fine, perhaps Gon wouldn’t love him, perhaps he wouldn’t feel that sort of affection, but Killua feels the need to defend himself. It feels very important, as if he were proving his worth not just to Illumi, but to Gon himself.

“We… we have a lot of fun together,” Killua mumbles, staring at his feet.

Illumi clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Now really, you’re not stupid. People have fun with their  _ dogs.  _ You really think he has so much ‘fun’ with you that he’d want you? You think there aren’t other people whose company he enjoys more?”

Killua wants to protest, desperately wishes he could offer some quick, witty rebuttal and prove Illumi wrong, but Killua knows he’s right. His heart sinks, low and heavy. Killua isn’t really that much fun to be around. He knows this. Surely Gon has better, more interesting friends.

“Alright, now how about another reason?” Illumi says. “Another reason he might want you?”

“I don’t really want to keep talking about this,” Killua murmurs.

“ _ Killua,”  _ Illumi snaps, tone suddenly cold and terrifying. “You don’t get to decide when we’re done here. You need to remember exactly where you stand in this situation and  _ do as you’re told.  _ So answer the question.”

Killua grips the edge of the stone bench so hard his knuckles blanch.

“He, um, he’s spent a lot of time with me these past few months,” Killua says, voice hardly above a whisper. “We’ve spent nearly every day together.”

Illumi laughs.

“Well now you’re just being childish. You really think that means he likes you? You’re simply there. You’re convenient. You’re a brief, enjoyable distraction. He has no intention of continuing this friendship of yours any longer than it suits him. Surely you know this.”

“I…” Killua begins, trying his utmost to come up with some sort of protest.

“Alright, Kill, if you really believe he likes you as much as you seem to think, look me in the eyes and say it. Look me in the eyes and swear to me Gon really does care for you, that you’re more than a simple, amusing toy to be discarded when he loses interest.”

Slowly, Killua raises his eyes to meet Illumi’s. Illumi’s dark, wide eyes stare deep into Killua, raising the hairs on the back of Killua’s neck with an uncomfortable prickling sensation. Illumi’s pupils seem to grow wider and wider and impossibly wider until they swallow Killua whole, until he can’t see anything but that wide expanse of black. All around him, all he can see or hear or smell or taste is darkness. A never-ending, all-consuming darkness. As Killua looks into Illumi’s eyes, it all becomes so suddenly clear. Gon doesn’t really care for him. Of course not. He was a fool to think he ever did. Illumi’s right--Killua’s convenient. He’s enjoyable for as long as Gon’s interested, but he’ll soon be tossed aside. He’s merely a toy. A thing.

Killua tears his gaze away from Illumi, staring at the ground.

“Can’t do it, huh?” Illumi says. “That’s okay. I know it’s hard for you, coming to terms with this. Understanding how he really sees you. It’s painful, isn’t it?”

Killua nods, hot tears of humiliation and frustration and heartbreak filling his eyes. He was such a fool, to imagine Gon was going to kiss him today. To imagine Gon would ever look twice at him. Illumi’s right--he’s naive and childish and utterly pathetic.

“Oh, Kill,” Illumi says softly. “Come here. It’s okay.”

Illumi puts an arm around Killua, patting his shoulder. Killua leans into it, desperate for any sort of warmth or comfort, clinging to Illumi like a man drowning.

“It’s better this way, right? It’s better to realize things now before you really went and embarrassed yourself.”

Killua nods again, trembling violently. Yes, it’s better. It’s better for Killua to realize who he is--what he is--before he did something unforgivable, like confess his feelings to Gon.

“So what do you think you should do?” Illumi prompts. “Do you think you should keep spending time with him? That would just be cruel to yourself, wouldn’t it? To draw it out. You shouldn’t hurt yourself like that.”

Killua nods. It is better this way. It’s painful and awful and Killua feels sick and hot and too large for his skin, but it is better. For as bad as he feels now, he’ll only feel worse if he keeps seeing Gon, keeps prolonging this delusion any longer than he already has.

“I should stop,” Killua says, voice unsteady. “I should stop seeing him.”

Illumi gives Killua a squeeze.

“I’m very proud of you. It must’ve been hard to come to that realization. But you’re a smart boy, Kill. You finally see this for what it is.”

Killua takes a deep breath, still trembling all over. The praise helps ease the horrid drowning sensation, and it’s all Killua can do not to fall to his knees and beg for more.

“I’ll give you some time to yourself,” Illumi says, standing. “You can come inside whenever you’re ready.”

Illumi reaches down and ruffles Killua’s hair and then turns and heads towards the house.

Killua sits, clinging to the bench for dear life, as if gravity had suddenly disappeared and he’d float off for eternity the moment he let go. He tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t manage it. His chest stutters up and down desperately, only allowing brief, shallow gulps of air.

Illumi’s right. Of course he is. Killua can hardly bear the disgust with himself, to be so arrogant and foolish as to think Gon would ever really like him, that he’d ever be more than a simple convenience. That someone as extraordinary as Gon would ever have anything close to affection for Killua.

It’s better this way. Killua repeats it over and over like a chant. It’s better this way. He’ll stop seeing Gon. Gon won’t miss him, surely. He’ll find someone else. It’s not like he’s really attached to Killua. Killua just isn’t the sort of person who inspires attachment. And Killua will spare himself any further pain. It’s better this way. Really, it is. It’s better this way.

Killua doesn’t know how long he sits on the bench, trembling and breathing hard, but it’s long enough that his back gets stiff. He merely sits and stares blankly ahead, unseeing, gazing at a point just a bit beyond his nose. He keeps repeating the mantra to himself. It’s better this way. Better for Killua to leave now before it gets any harder to do so, before Gon is the one to sever the tie. This hurts less than the inevitable, oncoming rejection. It’s better.

At last, the paralysis weighing down Killua’s limbs abates enough for him to rise from the bench and walk towards the house. He moves robotically, just one foot in front of the other. Now up the stairs. Now into his room. Now lie on the bed. He can’t manage more than simple, straightforward imperatives.

The sun hasn’t yet set, but it doesn’t matter. Killua simply wants this day to end as quickly as it can, so, without even bothering to change out of his clothes, he lies down and falls asleep.

* * *

For a brief, blissful moment as he wakes, Killua forgets.

For just a moment, Killua feels pleasantly sleepy and relaxed, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow with a satisfied groan. He’s so warm and comfortable; perhaps he’ll indulge in just a few more minutes of sleep before he goes to see Gon.

And then, like a blow to the stomach, with that exact same nausea and pain and uncomfortable breathlessness, it hits him.

He isn’t going to see Gon. He isn’t going to see Gon ever again.

The thought makes it feel like there’s a hole right where his insides should be. Killua means it in the most literal way. There’s no metaphor, no hidden meaning. His body simply feels agonizingly empty and wrong, like something should be there and isn’t.

Killua clenches his jaw firmly. He’s not going to cry. He’s not a child, whining when things don’t go his way. He isn’t going to lie here and pity himself. It’s his own damn fault. He knows it. If he were just better somehow, if he weren’t tainted and stained, he’d be worthy of Gon’s affection. He has no one to blame but himself for not being enough.

There’s no use lying in bed wallowing in misery, despite the inclination to. He’ll get up, he’ll go down to the dining room for breakfast, and he won’t act like a child. There, feet on the floor. Then stand. Then one foot in front of the other. That’s it. Just one more step. Now another. Down the stairs. Into the dining room.

In the dining room, Illumi’s sitting at the head of the table, sipping a cup of coffee. When he sees Killua, he smiles slightly, and it helps fill the gaping hole in Killua’s abdomen, if only a little. Illumi still cares for him. At least Killua isn’t totally alone.

“Please, come join me,” Illumi says, gesturing to the chair beside him. “You just sit down and I’ll go get you some breakfast.”

Killua obeys. He feels just another small fraction better. Illumi never fetches him things, never invites him to come sit down, but he’s being so kind to Killua. Far kinder than is deserved. Killua lied to him, after all, and there should be consequences like that. Prolonged and agonizing consequences. Killua knows. But Illumi’s forgiven him, and Killua is so profoundly grateful. It’s only further confirmation that he’s made the right choice. The blessing of family, Killua supposes, is that they’ll never leave you. Despite all Killua’s done, Illumi still cares for him. Surely Gon wouldn’t forgive this sort of disobedience so quickly, but his family remains at his side no matter his rebellion and betrayal and deception. Illumi has reminded him of it time and again. No one will stay. Everyone will leave eventually. That’s the sort of person Killua is, the sort who’s abandoned and forgotten and tossed aside. He knows this. But not his family; they’ll remain beside him for as long as he lives.

“Here,” Illumi says gently, placing down a dish with a large, flaky croissant and a mug of hot coffee. Killua accepts the mug gratefully, wrapping his hands around it and taking a sip.

“Black with three sugars,” he says softly. “That’s just how I like it.”

Illumi smiles.

“Of course. I know these things about you.”

Killua takes another sip.

“I was thinking,” Illumi says. “I know that forest has been your domain for quite some time, but what do you think of taking a town by the coast instead? I thought maybe it might make things easier on you, given the situation.”

Killua nods.

“Yes. Thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“Of course,” Illumi says, smiling. “Anything for my baby brother.”

It still hurts, the hole where Killua’s insides are meant to be, but he’s feeling better already. Really, he is. He still has his family, after all. He’s not entirely alone, not completely unloved. It’s the only comfort he has. The only comfort he’ll ever have. He isn’t totally alone.

* * *

The air by the coast is salty and cold and the sea is grey and choppy, white-foamed crests breaking against the rocks. It’s a beautiful town, small and quaint, with charming rows of houses and shops, their paint long faded into muted, rusty reds and mellow sea-foam greens. Killua’s heart aches just a bit as he thinks back on the forest, on the thick layer of snow and the bare trees and the small woodland animals, but this is really for the best. Out of sight, out of mind. Killua won’t allow himself to dwell on what might have been. He’s certain of his choice. It was right. Illumi’s smart, and while he’s certainly made his mistakes, he only wants what’s best for Killua. Killua knows this. All Illumi was doing was trying to spare him unnecessary pain. It was out of love. Everything he does, even the cruelty and pain and violence, comes from love.

And so when Illumi knocks on his door that evening with a letter addressed to him from Gon and asks what Killua would like to do with it, whether he’d like to read it or whether that will simply cause him more unneeded pain, Killua knows his answer.

“You can just get rid of it,” he says, voice trembling only slightly.

“That’s a good boy,” Illumi says with a smile.

And so each day, when another letter comes in addressed to Killua, Illumi always asks. It’s so kind of him to check with Killua each time. And of course, Killua always tells him he can just get rid of it. Whatever feeling clenches painfully in his chest when he says it isn’t really important. Of course there’s pain. There’s always pain when something ends, even something doomed from the start, like his friendship with Gon. So of course Killua feels as if a knife twists deeper into his sternum whenever he refuses to open the letters from Gon, but it’s really to be expected. 

And Gon will no doubt move on soon as well. For someone like Gon, a person like Killua isn’t a real loss. Gon never felt for him deeply; Killua was merely a few months of fun. A fling, he believes, is the word. The letters are a kind gesture, but there’s surely no true longing behind them, no true pain. And so when Illumi asks if Killua would like him to stop checking as each comes in and simply throw them away immediately, Killua clenches his fists until his nails cut into his palms and says yes.

And it doesn’t really mean anything that Killua feels empty and cold all the time. It doesn’t mean anything that he can no longer really eat or sleep. That’s just Killua being himself; childish and sentimental and self-pitying. It doesn’t mean anything that as the days turn to weeks, and the weeks to months, he finds himself growing numb and apathetic to everything around him. That’s he’s as stiff and lifeless as a taxidermied animal. That the thought of eternity stretching on before him, each day as bleak and miserable as the last, occasionally overwhelms him to the point of tears. It doesn’t mean anything that his body is heavy and aching, that his days are wholly without meaning, that he can’t remember a time he’s ever felt quite so suffocated by hopelessness.

It doesn’t mean anything, because this is the kinder option of the two. He’d feel so much worse if--no,  _ when-- _ Gon had ended things. For as awful as he feels now, it could be worse, so much worse. It’s better this way, Killua keeps repeating, as the months wear on. It’s better this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a happy ending coming i PROMISE!!!!!!!
> 
> as always, thank you so very much for reading. comments are extra super double appreciated rn bc i'm having a pretty shit day, but i will still reply w the usual excessively punctuated enthusiasm ;)
> 
> see you next week, my dears!!!!! xo


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter!!!!! i hope you enjoy our thrilling conclusion!!!!

Killua wakes to the sound of raised voices from the front hall.

It’s jarring--the house is usually eerily silent, so quiet Killua notices even the slightest creak of the floorboards. Something about the cold stone walls and large dark curtains and dim lights inspires a need to speak in hushed tones. But not for whomever is in the front hall. Whoever is in the front hall is outright shouting. Killua can’t make out any specific words, but he sounds angry. Angrier by the moment.

And then Illumi answers, tone low and cool and extremely dangerous. Killua doesn’t hear the words, but he doesn’t have to. He knows that tone. It’s the telltale rattle of a rattlesnake, the unmistakable sound just before it strikes.

In an instant, Killua’s out of bed, throwing off the quilt and running for the door. Whoever is out there is in terrible trouble if he’s managed to upset Illumi. Yes, after so many months of misery, Killua can no longer manage to care for anything, not really, but he won’t sit idly by while someone is unknowingly in the greatest danger of their life just down the stairs. He has retained that much of himself, at least.

As Killua steps into the corridor and heads towards the stairs, the words finally become clearer.

“I  _ said  _ I want to see Killua!”

Killua freezes, his foot hovering above the top step.

That voice.

That’s…

That’s Gon’s voice.

What could Gon possibly be doing here?

Killua’s heart leaps into his throat, throbbing painfully right beneath his Adam’s apple. He races down the stairs two at a time. He has to get to Gon. He has to protect him. Please, it’s all he cares about. It doesn’t matter what Illumi does to Killua. It doesn’t matter if the rest of his life is as miserable and lonely and bleak as the past three months have been. None of it matters, goddamnit,  _ none  _ of it does, as long as Gon’s safe. Please. Let him be safe, and Killua won’t ask for a single thing ever again, not all his life.

Killua skids to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, nearly losing his balance before managing to grab the bannister and keep himself upright. Illumi’s back is to Killua but across from him, standing just inside the door and facing the staircase, is Gon.

All at once, time stops. Killua doesn’t so much as breathe, doesn’t so much as think. Everything is suspended for one precious, perfect moment and it’s simply  _ Gon. _ Gon, in the same white shirt tucked into loose, dark pants he always wears, standing in the front hall with his hands on his hips and feet planted wide. Gon, with his thick, dark hair and wide, kind eyes and slightly upturned nose. Gon, cheeks flushed red with anger and a scowl on his face and somehow even more beautiful than Killua remembered him.

And then their eyes meet. For one long, quiet moment, they simply stand there. Several yards apart. They simply stand there looking at each other. Just looking. Killua is certain their hearts beat in synchronicity even across the room. If only this could be eternity, standing still and looking straight at Gon.

“Killua!” Gon shouts, breaking the silence. At last, Killua breathes again. How long had they been standing there? Had it really been as long as he had imagined it to be?

“Killua, are you hurt? What have they been doing to you?” Gon turns to Illumi, eyes burning with a bright, fiery rage. “If you’ve done a single thing to him, I won’t ever forgive you.”

Illumi chuckles.

“Dear me, what would I do if you didn’t forgive me? I imagine I’d just be beside myself.”

And suddenly Killua is yanked sharply back into reality. This isn’t Gon and Killua reunited, locking eyes across the hall, suspended in a perfect, lingering moment. No, this is Gon in the greatest danger of his life. This is Gon in a lion’s den.

“Gon,” Killua says. “You need to go. Please. Just get out of here.”

The strangest look of hurt clouds Gon’s features.

“But Killua, I came all this way just to see you,” he says, sounding uncharacteristically small.

“Yes. Thank you. It…” Killua struggles to find the words, struggles to convey how buoyant and exhilarated and warm he feels knowing Gon had wanted to see him. ”It means a great deal to me. But you remember what I said, right? About… everything. It’s not safe for you here.”

Illumi turns back to Killua and Killua inhales sharply. Killua knows that look in his eyes. The one of cold, impassive fury. The one that means danger. Undoubtedly Killua will pay for this transgression later in a cruel, bloody, excruciating manner, but that doesn’t matter right now. Killua will take all the torture Illumi could possibly inflict upon him--all of it and then some--if it allows Gon to get out of the Underworld unharmed.

“Gon,” Killua urges, voice cracking in sheer desperation, “please, just go.”

“That’s right, Gon,” Illumi says, still looking straight at Killua, that same cold anger in his eyes. “Killua doesn’t want to see you right now. It’s quite rude to stay at someone’s home when they’ve asked you to leave. So why don’t you head out now?”

Gon folds his arms across his chest, jaw set.

“I’m not leaving until I’m certain you haven’t done anything to hurt him.”

“He hasn’t, I swear” Killua says hurriedly. “I’m not hurt. I’m fine. You should go.”

Gon’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Gon says, although he looks at Illumi as he speaks. “Maybe you’re just saying that in front of him so you don’t get in any trouble. Maybe he’s threatened you.”

Illumi sighs.

“Gon, you’re even denser than you look. Killua hasn’t come to see you. He hasn’t replied to any of your letters. You seem to think he’s in some kind of danger, but perhaps he just doesn’t want to spend any more time with you. Perhaps he wants you to leave because you’re bothering him. Have you considered that?”

Gon looks to Killua, eyes wide and soft.

“Do you… really not want to see me?”

“No,” Killua says. “Of course not. No, I’m so happy to see you. So happy I can’t even say. But I need you to go.  _ Please.  _ Please, Gon, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you on account of me.”

For a long moment, Gon’s quiet.

“You’re frightened,” he says at last, soft and slow, like some sort of revelation. “You’re so frightened.”

And then Gon’s brow furrows the way it does when he makes up his mind about something and he exhales sharply and begins to march across the hall. Killua’s heart leaps into his throat. Gon draws nearer and nearer to Illumi, and Killua is simply frozen in terror, sweating, trembling, heart hammering in his chest.

It’s like the strange, powerless paralysis of a dream. Killua can’t speak. He can’t move. He can’t tell Gon to stop coming towards him. He can’t throw himself between Gon and Illumi, can’t protect him from the inevitable danger. He simply waits, hardly daring to breathe, for Illumi to do something awful.

But as Gon draws nearer, Illumi doesn’t pull out a needle and advance. And as he passes by Illumi, head high and eyes bright and determined, nothing happens. Illumi’s hands strain at his sides, as if doing his utmost to keep from advancing upon Gon, but he doesn’t so much as touch him. Gon simply marches right past him, head up and chin out, until he reaches Killua.

“We’re leaving,” Gon says, grabbing Killua by the hand. “I’m not going to let you stay here anymore. I don’t want you to have to be afraid.”

Illumi clicks his tongue. Killua jumps in spite of himself.

“Kill, do you remember our chat in the gardens? Do you remember the conclusion you came to?”

Killua freezes. Of course, in the fear and exhilaration and joy and terror of the moment, he’d forgotten it all. He’d forgotten what he’d realized about Gon, about himself, about the fragile, temporary nature of their friendship.

“You’re welcome to leave, but you’ll be doing so on the condition that you’ll never be allowed to come back.”

“Why would Killua give a good goddamn if he weren’t allowed back in this awful place?” Gon snaps.

Illumi smiles, too broad and not quite reaching his eyes.

“You’ll be alone. You realize that, right? When Gon’s through having his fun, you won’t be allowed back into the family. You’ll be entirely, completely alone. You’ll have no one.”

Gon makes a spluttering, shocked noise.

“‘Through having my fun?’” What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Be honest with yourself. Really think about it. Do you truly believe you’re as important as you’re telling yourself you are? As cared for? Don’t delude yourself. Really, you’re above that childish sort of self-deception.”

Killua’s whole body feels weak and shaky and hot. Of course. Of course he isn’t. Of course someone like Gon wouldn’t want Killua for any longer than it suits him. Killua is nothing more than a toy Gon finds amusing, but like all things, surely he’ll outlive his usefulness.

“Kill, you know how this ends. You’re a smart boy. Make the right choice.”

Killua holds perfectly still, heart hammering in his chest. Yes, he’s miserable and lonely and hopeless stuck in this house, but at least he isn’t alone. At least he’s cared for and looked after in some way, imperfect though it may be. When Gon leaves him, he won’t even have this. As awful and isolated as he feels now, he’ll feel worse still when Gon decides he’s through with him. If he thinks he knows loneliness now, he’ll be drowning in a sea of it when this is all over. He’ll have nothing. No one.

“I…” Killua begins, but trails off.

Gon turns to Killua, hands still joined.

“You’re not really listening to him, are you?” Gon says, his voice soft. “Do you think I’d just abandon you like that?”

Killua feels dizzy and hot and entirely overwhelmed. He can’t find the words, can’t even manage to think. All he can do is try to keep his balance as the room spins violently around him.

“Kill,” Illumi says gently. “We both know how this ends. We both know this won’t last. I’d hate to see you hurt and alone, with absolutely no one to comfort you. I’m only trying to protect you from the inevitable pain.”

“Just shut up!” Gon shouts. “Stop playing mind games with him! I’m not leaving Killua, not ever. You hear me? Never. I love him more than anyone in the world! So stop trying to get in his head!”

Oh.

_ “I love him more than anyone in the world.” _

Oh.

_ “I love him.” _

And that decides it, completely and totally. “I love him.” No one’s ever said that to Killua (or rather, about him, he supposes). No one’s ever said it, and he’s certain no one’s ever felt it. At least not like this. Not selflessly and generously, without an ulterior motive, without anything to gain. And Gon says it so naturally and with such conviction, as if loving Killua is the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. He says it in a way that leaves no room for fear or doubt or second guessing.

“Yes,” Killua says, voice very soft. “Gon, yes. Let’s go.”

Gon just beams and gives Killua’s hand a tight squeeze. But he doesn’t hastily drag Killua out the door by the hand like Killua would expect. Rather, he waits, not expecting or demanding anything. He simply waits for several long moments until Killua decides he’s ready, until he takes a deep breath and sets his jaw and takes a slow step forward. And then another. And another. And they walk out together, right in step with each other, side by side.

They don’t speak or turn back or so much as look at each other until they’ve made it out of the Underworld. Killua thinks he’s read a story about this once, about leaving a terrible place with someone you love, about how turning back would ruin everything. Although he can’t recall the details, the general premise seems right. Turning back, speaking, doing anything but resolutely putting one foot in front of the other is inexplicably but undeniably forbidden.

But when at last they reach the forest, the same grove of trees where Killua and Gon had first met, Gon slumps down, back against a tree, with a shuddering sigh.

“I can’t believe we got out of there that easily,” he says, voice breathy. “I was so scared. I was certain it was going to go wrong somehow.”

Killua sits down beside him and takes Gon’s hand in his own, holding tight.

“You didn’t seem scared. You seemed so brave. I’ve never seen anyone face Illumi like that, without looking frightened at all.”

Gon gently rubs his thumb along Killua’s hand.

“Well, there was enough on the line that I just had to push past the fear. There was something more important.”

Killua flushes. It’s unmistakable. Gon’s talking about him.

Killua swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. What Gon had said back there to Illumi, the part about Killua. He has to ask. Perhaps it was merely the heat of the moment, perhaps Gon didn’t really think of the implications of what he said, but Killua simply has to know.

“I…” Killua begins. “What you said. To Illumi. About me. Did you…”

Killua trails off. He can’t even bring himself to speak the words for fear of being wrong.

Gon ducks his head, cheeks flushing. Killua’s never seen him look shy before. It’s far more endearing than it should be.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. But I guess I should at least apologize. I know I waited much longer than I should have to come see you, but I thought maybe you were angry with me.”

“Angry?”

Gon smiles, but in a way that looks oddly ashamed.

“I just… I’ve felt this way about you for a while. A long while. And that day at the pond, when we went skating and ended up wrestling in the snow, I was so close to kissing you. It was all I was thinking of all day. How badly I wanted you. And right then, when we were on the ground and just inches apart, I was a moment away doing it. Maybe less. But then I thought better of it. Because I didn’t know if you felt the same way. And then I just ran off, because I was so embarrassed and afraid of ruining things.

“I thought that’s why you didn’t come back, actually. Or answer any of my letters. I thought you knew how I felt and you couldn’t stand it, so you left. But the more I thought about it, the more I looked beyond just how stupid I felt and considered your feelings too, the more it didn’t feel right. Even if you didn’t want me like I wanted you, you wouldn’t just leave without at least saying good-bye. That’s not who you are. So the more I got out of my own head, the more I realized your family was probably to blame. And the more I started worrying, until I just had to come make sure you were okay.

“I guess all of this is just to say I learned a lot while we were apart. I learned how to stop focusing just on how I feel. So if you don’t feel the same way, I want you to know that truly, from the very bottom of my heart, that it’s okay. It doesn’t matter, not as long as the two of us can stay together as friends. But I owe you an apology, because I was focused on myself for far too long, and I let you suffer because of it.”

Killua’s head spins. His heart pounds. He feels simultaneously so incredibly alive and mere moments away from his heart stopping entirely. His skin is hot and there’s a strange buzzing in his ears and the whole world goes grainy and hazy before his eyes.

And then suddenly, in one overwhelming dizzying rush, Killua can’t hold back for even a second longer and he grabs Gon’s shirt collar tight in his fists and pulls him down hard and kisses him.

Killua had always imagined people were exaggerating about kissing. The mortals he’d encounter often seemed very preoccupied with it, and Killua could never really fathom why. Kissing is just a person’s mouth on your own, after all. It couldn’t possibly be as important as everyone seemed to think it was.

But as Gon wraps his arms around Killua’s waist and pulls him into his lap, Killua realizes all the mortals, every damn one of them, were right. Or rather, they had actually underemphasized exactly how good it is to kiss someone. Gon’s mouth is so wonderfully warm and his hands are so firm and perfect on Killua’s waist and his hair is so soft in Killua’s fingers, and yet the kiss is even more than just those sensations.. More than the sum of its parts. All together and all at once, kissing Gon is sheer electricity, leaving Killua a strange mix of pleasantly shivery and perfectly warm, and some other incredible feeling of tension and exhilaration and joy he doesn’t yet have a word for.

And like the snow melts after a long winter, Killua suddenly comes alive again. After three months spent with his senses dulled by misery and hopelessness and anguish, the world comes back into exquisite focus. He can suddenly smell the flowers, and hear the birds sing, and feel the warmth of the sun on his face. Killua kisses Gon, and it’s suddenly the first and most beautiful spring morning, when the whole world feels vital and alive and on the brink of something wonderful.

Gon at last pulls back, breathing hard, his cheeks flushed so perfectly and his mouth beautifully swollen and his eyes bright.

“Does that mean you feel the same way?” he asks, with only barely concealed urgency.

“Yes,” Killua says, fervent and awestruck. “Yes, of course. I love you. I love you so much.”

Gon throws back his head and laughs in delight, before Killua desperately surges back up to kiss him. It’s just as good the second time, or better even. Killua clings to Gon and kisses him with everything he has, kisses him with all the relief and joy and love he can muster. Killua clings to Gon and kisses him, and all around them, the daffodils bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAL ART DUMP!!!!!!!!!! furixu painted approximately five billion daffodils to give our boys [the kiss they deserved](https://furixu.tumblr.com/post/622461874102026240/33-universal-bones-by-storybookprincess-for) and i am so grateful to her!!!!!! it's so soft............. i can't handle it............. 
> 
> anyway, thank you all so very much for joining me w this story. it's officially the longest fic i've ever written, and one of the only aus, which is really cool, and i'm so grateful for all your kindness & encouragement as i've posted it!!!!
> 
> still treasuring & replying to comments & am available to holler at via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) should you want to say hi!!!!! i love talking to readers, so pls don't be shy!!!!!
> 
> stay safe & healthy out there, my friends!!!! xo


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